


Don't Leave

by cecilantro



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-10
Updated: 2018-05-10
Packaged: 2019-05-05 00:30:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,370
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14605212
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cecilantro/pseuds/cecilantro
Summary: Emotional Drunken Bath Time Shenanigans, is there anything better?





	Don't Leave

Caleb’s never been so glad for a bath in his life, he’s nearing blind drunk and Nott is keeping him topped up, he presses a kiss quickly to Molly’s cheek as he throws down the silver for himself, Caleb, and Nott. The goblin insists she can pay, and Molly insists that she’s part of the Caleb package, and what use does he have for money anyway? Silvers are more than he could ever have hoped for, and silvers can’t buy anything that he wants or needs.

Caleb motions for a swig from Nott’s flask before they split to separate changing rooms, it was meant to be just Molly, Nott, and Caleb, but Beau’s come along too, and behind her the others can’t be far, for sure, she glares faux daggers at Molly for a moment but she’s to eager to be clean to keep it up, her silver rattles on the front desk and Miss Rema nods politely as she skitters into the changing room just ahead of Nott.

 

Caleb pulls his shirt over his head and gasps into the damp air of the changing room at the freedom that follows, drunken fingers dance over his back, feather-light, and he arches away with a choked laugh, Molly’s breath at the back of his neck tells him that he’s as amused at the reaction as Caleb is.   
“‘M too drunk for laces.” Molly frowns, working at the ones at the back of his thigh, binding his boots tight enough to stay on, the ones that loosen to free him again.   
“Let me.” Caleb is used to his hands shaking, the anxiety makes it a constant and if anything, the drink helps to still them. Molly’s knots are messy and he groans as Caleb ducks down behind him and begins to work at them, stiff fingers, stiffer knots, Molly’s tail curls over Caleb’s shoulders apologetically.   
Caleb can feel Molly watching him as he tucks his fingers down the back of Molly’s thigh and tugs, lightly, loosens one boot, and moves to the next.   
Molly peels out as Caleb stands and begins to mimic with the remainder of his own clothes, his vision hazes a little in front of his eyes but  _ Godsdammit _ , they have so little to celebrate and relax on, he’s allowed to get drunk. One of Molly’s hands skims across the scar in the hollow of his hip, plants just above it to still Caleb, a thumb runs over the gnarled, pearlescent scar tissue that marrs the surface.   
“‘Least this one wasn’t my fault.” Molly is frowning and Caleb knows he’s drunk, they’re both drunk, where Molly touches, Caleb feels the phantom of the injury feeling miles away from him. All the way through his body and he’s still standing, damp and drunk and naked with Mollymauk in a bath house, what could be better.   
“None of these are your fault.” Caleb pats the side of Molly’s face, and this draws red eyes to blue, there’s a sadness that Caleb recognises. It’s there when Molly’s sober, too, a regret that he’s been locking down, it’s harder to keep your grip on the slippery things when your hands are greased with gin. Whiskey, in Caleb’s case, but he thinks he’s doing a good enough job of not being  _ obvious _ , partially due to his complete fucking inability to process and display emotions, he’d curse it if it wasn’t a help at the present.   
“These are.” Molly taps three in turn, crossbow bolts that had knocked Caleb to death’s door when Molly had fucked up on watch, and Caleb shakes his head.   
“I would rather have these,” Caleb taps them in the same order, doesn’t take his eyes from Molly, “Than lose this.”    
He taps right in the middle of Molly’s forehead and turns away before the tiefling can formulate a drunken response, strides off and away to slip into the bath beside Beau.   
“Red before the water, huh, Caleb?” She raises her eyebrows, a knowing smirk, and he huffs as he sinks lower.    
“Shush.” He manages before the sound turns to bubbles and Molly slips in, too, the opposite side of the bath to them.

 

Nott sits at the edge for so long, it takes Caleb and Beau a good few minutes to tempt her in, Molly offers to wash her hair and she freezes, immediately. She looks between him and Beau, who steps back and away, mostly at a look from Caleb.   
“I don’t  _ like _ getting wet.” Nott says, somewhere between scathing and afraid, and Caleb pats at her with the hand that she isn’t holding onto so she stays afloat.   
“Mollymauk is not like Beau.” He tilts a teasing smirk toward the latter, briefly, turns his attention back to Nott, “You do not want to be underwater, I’m sure that he can find a way around this.”   
“Of course.” Molly says, light and easy, “You just need to lean back.”   
Nott looks at Caleb, intently, carefully, studying and searching for too many heartbeats, she must find what she’s looking for, she leans back into the water. The fingers on Caleb’s arm are still vice-tight, but she’s trusting herself to Molly, now, too.   
“I’ll be as quick as possible.” He promises with a feather-light touch to her shoulder.

 

When they all climb out of the water again, it’s full of clouds of soot and ash from Nott’s hair, but they’re all pleasantly clean and light, the alcohol has lessened its grip on their systems, and Caleb is coming back to  _ tipsy _ , most cognitive function is his own as he pulls the towel around his shoulders.   
He sets one foot into the changing rooms and the shadows flash, his back is pressed up against the cold brick wall with a quick, shocked yelp, and Molly’s towel flutters to the floor as he repurposes his arms to pin either side of Caleb, not intimidating, as he had previously, but more desperate, a heat that has Caleb’s heart rocketing into his throat, making it hard to breathe.   
“These,” Molly lifts a hand from the wall to ghost his fingertips over each crossbow scar in turn, “are my fault. If I’d been paying attention-”   
“Oh, Mollymauk.” Caleb groans, and tries to duck under his arm, “That’s enough.”   
“Caleb!” Molly shifts, it’s not so much a pin this time, though, he has one hand on Caleb’s hip, the other hovers by his shoulder and settles there, after a moment. “This is  _ fucking me up _ . I nearly lost you, and it wasn’t even part of a bigger battle. I should have been more awake!”   
“ _ This _ is what you have been thinking about in the bath?” Caleb doesn’t even realise he’s raised his hands to Molly’s waist until he squishes and soft flesh bows under his fingers, he laughs, light, and Molly sighs as he begins to pull back.   
Caleb’s grip tightens, bruising in its intensity, and holds him in place.   
“I did not die. I am here. If I hadn’t woken the group, Mollymauk,  _ you _ would be dead, and I have only just come to know you.”   
He steps in, one, short step.   
“I do not want to lose you. Not yet, not so soon, not ever.”   
Molly surges in and kisses him, so hard that Caleb comes close to bumping back into the wall, he tangles the fingers of one hand into Caleb’s hair to pull him closer, and Caleb winds his arms around Molly’s back, tugging, no thought spared for the severe lack of clothing.    
“All love and respect, Caleb,” Molly draws away but rests his forehead to Caleb’s, affectionate, “Maybe something we should continue at the inn. Beau and Nott’ll be waiting for us.”   
“Ah, you’re right, I know.” Caleb kisses up at him, manages just to catch Molly’s lips once, and they split to begin dressing. They pause at the door as Caleb reaches up and presses his fingertips to Molly’s jaw.   
“I am glad that I did not lose you.” He says, quiet and serious, and Molly kisses him slowly to punctuate the pause before his response.   
“Never will, love.”   
“Stop flirtin’ and come  _ on _ .” Beau’s voice reaches them, and Caleb chuckles, Molly blanches, Caleb laces their fingers together.   
“To the future.”


End file.
